


Voicemail

by shut_the_jongup



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, M/M, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_the_jongup/pseuds/shut_the_jongup
Summary: No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he occupied himself with in hopes of finding a successful distraction, Youngjae just couldn’t stop thinking about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist Suggestions:
> 
> Earth, by Sleeping at Last (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1YQgjpnJdo)
> 
> Saturn, by Sleeping at Last (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3lWwMHFhnA)

No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he occupied himself with in hopes of finding a successful distraction, Youngjae just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He and Junhong had been living together for almost two years at this point, and he  _ knew  _ he was being melodramatic, but he couldn’t help it. Of course he trusted his boyfriend, he trusted him with his life. But the fact that Junhong hadn’t been sleeping at home for the past week was something he couldn’t pretend to ignore any longer. He didn’t understand what it was he had done wrong, and he was  _ terrified _ .

Had he found someone else? Someone better, who could cook and didn’t whine about the rain? Maybe Youngjae was overthinking it. Junhong had told him that work was busy this time of year, and that he might have to spend the night at his friend’s place if things got especially busy because it was closer to the office. At first, it hadn’t deterred Youngjae in the slightest, but then he began to get lonely. He usually worked at home, editing and fixing up his photos in the small office next to the bedroom, and the quiet was strange, reminding him of the days before he had met Junhong. It was a funny story, how the two met, and he thought about it often.

* * *

 

_ They were  both still in college at the time, and Youngjae had just managed to save up enough cash from his part time job to buy a new, high tech camera. He must’ve spent at least a full day going around taking photos of everything and anything that caught his eye: flowers, old buildings, shoes, all very photogenic stuff. He had been on a break between his two classes of the day, sitting at a tiny round table in the university’s coffee shop when he first saw him. He didn’t recognize the boy, but the way he stood in line before the register, his head tilted upwards to gaze at the menu mounted high upon the wall to expose his neck and the angles of his jaw, the soft curve of his nose that was adorned with a small hoop, his long eyelashes shadowed by the lighting in the shop, the light curls of his dyed pink hair, it all had Youngjae mesmerized, and his fingers twitched reflexively toward his camera. The boy was so fucking photogenic. With a quick glance around to be sure no one was looking at him, he lifted the camera to his face as surreptitiously as one could and snapped a few pictures, alternating angles and shifting the zoom around. He lowered the device just as quickly, hoping no one had noticed, which to his relief they hadn’t. Was it creepy to take pictures of a stranger?  _ Its photography _ , he told himself.  _ He’s just aesthetically pleasing, that’s it. Any photographer would want him to model for them.

_ It wasn’t until the next day, in the same coffee shop, that Youngjae looked up from his cup to come face to face with the pink haired boy from before sitting across from him, legs crossed and fingers tapping the side of his cup. As soon as they made eye contact, he spoke, raising an eyebrow. _

_ “Aren’t you supposed to get consent from your subjects before you photograph them?” _

_ Youngjae’s eyes widened and he immediately fumbled for a response, his usually quick wit failing him for one of the first times as his mouth opened and closed. “Um,” he finally managed to supply intelligently. _

_ “I follow your blog,” the boy explained. “I was kinda creeped out at first, because, well, you know. A stranger is taking pictures of me, but at the same time I’m kind of flattered, but also confused, because–” _

_ “I’m sorry,” Youngjae blurted out, effectively interrupting the other. “I–” he paused. “I should have asked you or something. I just have a thing for candids and you looked so perfect and I didn’t want to bother you…” he trailed off awkwardly. _

_ “I don’t mind.” The smile on the other boy’s face was soft and sweet, a dimple showing when he turned his head to the side to glance out the window. Youngjae’s breath hitched and he reached for his camera. _

_ “I’m Junhong, by the way.” _

_ Youngjae immediately retracted his hand into his lap, praying that he hadn’t noticed, but the smirk playing at the corners of Junhong’s lips told him that he had. _

_ “Youngjae.” _

* * *

 

The two had been dating ever since that day, and there had never been a major hitch in their relationship until now. Everything had been perfect.

It was then that Youngjae reached for his phone, deciding that enough was enough; he had to figure out what was going on with Junhong, why he hadn’t come home this past week.

The line rang twice before cutting off and going dead. Junhong had hung up on him. If it hadn’t been 23:00 he might’ve just figured his boyfriend was busy with work or in one of his “writing zones”, but Youngjae was beginning to seriously doubt both options at this point. It had been a full  _ week _ since he’d seen his boyfriend last. Sure, they had talked on the phone and texted, but every time Youngjae could swear Junhong sounded nervous. He hadn’t even specified which “friend” he was staying with, so Youngjae had no way to contact him if he didn’t pick up his phone.

Youngjae bit his lip and dialed his boyfriend’s number again, leaning against the wall next to the window in the living room, anxiously biting at the nail on his thumb.

One…two…three…four…

_ “Youngjae?” _

“Junhong,” Youngjae stated, surprised that he had picked up so soon after denying his first call.

_ “Um, what’s up?” _

There was the nervousness again. “What are you doing?” Youngjae bit down hard on his nail, enough to force actually tear the surface, and he winced.

_ “Uh, actually, I was just getting ready to head out. I’m coming home tonight.” _

“Is the season rush coming to a close?” Youngjae tried to sound casual, dropping his nail from between his teeth and replacing it with his lower lip.

_ “Well, not really, but that’s not important.” _

Youngjae held his breath.

_ “I need to talk to you.” _

There it was. He swallowed anxiously, the grip on his phone turning his knuckles white. “What about?” He winced when his voice cracked. There was a brief silence as Junhong hesitated on the other end of the line.

_ “Nothing…too important. Just a few little things, I guess. I’m gonna head out now, I’ll see you–” _

“Junhong,” Youngjae cut him off, his voice shaky.

_ “What’s wrong?” _

Youngjae didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was wrong.

_ “Youngjae?” _

Everything was wrong. Their relationship suddenly felt distant; they never hid things from each other. So why couldn’t Youngjae just talk to him like he used to when something was bothering him?

_ “Youngjae? Are you okay? Look, I really have to go, I’ll be home in just–” _

“Home?” Youngjae echoed, his voice coming out strained and distant. “Are you sure?”

_ “What are you talking about, Youngjae?” _

Suddenly the elder scoffed. “You even have the decency to act confused.”

_ “What–” _

“Come on, don’t drag it out and make me feel worse than I already do. Just tell me.”

_ “Wait–” _

“You know what I’m talking about Junhong. Honestly, your  _ friend’s  _ place can’t be that much closer to your office than our– _ mine _ .”

_ “Oh, god, don’t tell me you think–” _

“I’m not an idiot, Junhong.”

_ “Stop cutting me off, let me explain. I’ll be back in just a little bit and then we can–” _

“We can  _ what _ ?” Youngjae spat. “ _ Talk?  _ I don’t want to talk to you.” Youngjae knew he was being completely irrational; Junhong had  _ told  _ him he might not be home for a few days and that he’d come back as soon as he could. And he  _ was _ now. But the limited contact, the loneliness…a  _ week.  _ Maybe it was just getting to him. He would never tell Junhong that he was always afraid he might abandon him for someone else. Someone  _ better _ .

_ “Youngjae, listen to me, that’s not it at all, I’ve been working. We talked about this. Just wait until I get home, I’ll explain everything, I promise.” _

But the younger’s plea fell on deaf ears. “You know what, I don’t want to hear it. Just don’t even bother coming back.” Youngjae didn’t wait for a reply at Junhong’s shocked silence, and he ended the call, tossing his phone onto the couch and resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying not to cry. Maybe he had screwed up. Probably. Why was he always so afraid of Junhong leaving him? Was it because of what had happened with his parents? Did he have some sort of mental disorder? Should he be seeing a therapist or something? There was a good possibility Junhong had done nothing wrong, and was in his car now, worrying about his boyfriend and what he could have possibly messed up. His phone buzzed from the other side of the room, but Youngjae ignored it. He knew Junhong would come home either way, he had a key, and they would sort it out. Youngjae’s tongue burned with the apologies he knew he would spill the second his boyfriend opened the door; he would bury himself in his arms and say he was sorry for doubting his faithfulness. And Junhong would be calm; he would explain everything and they would be okay. He had always been too forgiving.

 

It was an hour later that Youngjae couldn’t take the silence anymore. He told himself over and over that Junhong had probably just hit traffic or something; maybe taken a detour to grab food on the way. But an hour? He had bitten every nail down to the line, and he stared at the cell phone resting on his thigh, watching the minutes flash by too slowly.

He dialed Junhong’s number.

One…two…three…four…five…

Youngjae bit his lip when Junhong’s voicemail played.

_ “You’ve reached Choi Junhong, I’m sorry but I can’t get to the phone right now. Just leave a number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” _

There was a beep, and Youngjae held the phone to his ear in silence for a full minute before hanging up.

A couple minutes of pacing around the room later, his phone buzzed and Youngjae practically leapt to the coffee table he had placed it face down on, immediately hitting the “accept call” button.

“Junhong! Oh my god, I was so worr–”

_ “Yoo Youngjae?’ _

Youngjae froze. He didn’t know that voice.

“…yes?” He replied hesitantly.

_ “You are affiliated with Choi Junhong?” _

Youngjae held his breath.  _ What was this? _

“He’s my boyfriend.”

_ “I’m going to need you to come to the police station at–” _

Youngjae hung up, immediately running to the door, grabbing his keys and slipping his sneakers on, making a run for his car. So many thoughts were running through his head. Had Junhong been attacked or something? If that had been the case, wouldn’t he have called himself? Unless he was seriously injured…maybe he was a witness to something, maybe he had done something stupid because Youngjae made him upset.

* * *

 

As he rushed into the police station a few minutes later, Youngjae couldn’t hear a thing. Not the sound of people talking around him, not his own feet hitting the ground as he ran. He looked around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend somewhere, but he was nowhere to be found as Youngjae stopped at the front desk, chest heaving.

The woman behind the desktop mouthed something that he didn’t hear, and he shook his head, attempting to remain as clear minded as possible.

“What was that?” His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was soft and calm, gentle as she typed into the computer while looking at Youngjae.

“My name is Yoo Youngjae. I just got a call requesting I come here, something about Jun–Choi Junhong.”

Youngjae didn’t miss the way the woman’s fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard for a split second before she reached for the phone on the desk and pushed a button.

“Yoo Youngjae is here,” she spoke into the receiver, glancing back up at him. “Okay. Yes, sir,” she finished, placing the phone back down.

“Where is he?” Youngjae leaned over the desk, fingers gripping the edge tightly. “What happened? Is he–”

“You need to report to room 2A, just down that hallway,” the woman pointed to the right, and Youngjae took off, not seeing the sorry look in her eyes.

“2A, 2A, 2A…” he muttered as he walked quickly down the hall of the police station, scanning the door numbers. Finally he saw it, and didn’t even bother knocking. Upon pushing open the door, Youngjae was meet with three unfamiliar people. One of them, looking much younger than the other two and the only one of the three not in a police uniform, took in a shaky breath when he saw Youngjae, and turned away, hiding his face.

“Mr. Yoo?” One of the officers gestured to a chair at the other side of the table they were seated at. “Please have a seat.”

“Where is he?” Youngjae didn’t move, instead staying in place, his body warming with anxiety. “Where’s Junhong?”

The younger man winced visibly at the crack in Youngjae’s voice.

“You,” Youngjae approached him, grabbing the man’s shoulders and pulling him up from his seat. “You know where he is–” Youngjae faltered as the man’s eyes met his. They were shattered. His irises like stained glass windows blown in. He didn’t respond.

Youngjae shook his head. “Tell me!” He shook the man’s shoulders, only to be pulled back by one of the police officers. “What did you do to him?!” He struggled against the arms that held him in place, kicking backwards.

“Mr. Yoo, please, calm down and listen.”

“Tell me,  _ now _ !” Youngjae tore the arms away, running at the young man again, this time pushing him up against the wall. “You hurt him. You  _ hurt my Junhong.” _

He was surprised when the man didn’t respond, simply hanging his head as he cried softly. Youngjae swallowed thickly. This man hadn’t done anything, what the hell was wrong with him? He stepped back, stumbling into the table and almost losing his balance. There was silence in the room for a minute, and then the young man spoke up, raising his head but not moving from his stance against the wall.

“Officers, may we speak in private?” His voice was quiet and raw.

“Mr. Moon, we really shouldn’t leave you alone with him,” one of the officers reasoned.

“Please,” he took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Just…give us five minutes.”

The officer sighed and looked to the other one, who shrugged in response.

“Five minutes,” he stated, and the two left the room, shutting the door behind them.

It was then that the younger man moved, seating himself back in his chair.

Youngjae didn’t move.

“My name is Jongup,” he said.

“You’re the friend Junhong was staying with.”

“Yeah.”

“Jongup?”

There was a brief silence as Youngjae watched the man think, emotions running across his face as he decided what to say.

“There…” he took a shuddery breath. “There was…an accident.”

And Youngjae knew. But he didn’t speak, he simply closed his eyes, sitting in one of the chairs.

“He was going too fast; the–it was a hard collision, he–” Jongup faltered and brought his hand to cover his mouth, taking a minute to collect himself. “ _ Died on impact,”  _ he whispered, burying his face in his hands.

People talk about feeling their world crashing around them. Youngjae’s smashed right through his eyes.

People talk about their hearts dropping. Youngjae felt his splatter on the floor.

He didn’t sleep that night.

The police made him stay with Jongup, afraid he might do something stupid.

But he knew he wouldn’t, and Jongup did too.

Youngjae hadn’t spoken yet, he didn’t know if he would anytime soon. The last words he had said to his boyfriend,  _ the love of his life,  _ had been ‘don’t even bother coming back.’

_ Don’t even bother coming back. _

_ Don’t even bother coming back. _

_ Don’t– _

“Youngjae!”

He slowly opened his eyes to Jongup’s face, concern overflowing from his eyes.

Youngjae looked down to see his hands shaking in someone else’s, not Junhong’s. He could hear his own heartbeat, he could feel it shake his bones.

He stared at Jongup, eyes dry, cracked lips still mouthing the phrase.

_ Don’t even bother coming back. _

* * *

 

Jongup gave him something a couple months later, when Youngjae had stopped falling into an unresponsive state every half hour. Though he still wasn’t talking, but he at least ate once in awhile. Jongup said something about the object having been in Junhong’s pocket that night.

He had stared at the small box in his palm for five minutes, his brain refusing to decipher what it was until Jongup reached over and opened it for him, eliciting no external reaction from Youngjae when the small stone and the silver band glinted at his eyes. Youngjae still didn’t move, and Jongup left.

He came back later to find Youngjae in the same position, his eyes staring hollowly into the soft satin of the box. Jongup couldn’t stop the tears when he leaned over, taking Youngjae’s hand and slipping the ring around his left ring finger. That was when the other finally moved, bringing his hand to his chest and hugging it lightly, his mind refusing to process anything more than the words ‘ _ don’t even bother coming back.’ _

Youngjae called Junhong that night. It was dark, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed in Jongup’s guest room, the one Junhong had been staying in before.

He picked up his phone carefully and tapped in his boyfriend’s number.

One…two…three…four…five…

_ “The number you are trying to reach is no longer available. For help, please press–” _

“Come back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment; feedback is always more than welcome. xx


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